


Pet Shop Persuasions

by mansikka



Series: Under Observation [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, People Watching, Pet Store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:57:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka





	

“Dean informed me that should I need to get in your good books then this would be the perfect location to take you to,”

There is a loud snort of laughter that follows the deep, solemn statement, and the two things together have Gillian pause from where she is relabelling cans of dog food on the shelf to peer a curious eye around the corner of the aisle. A tall, long-haired man, that it has to be said, is not unattractive, is beaming down at a slightly shorter man who is looking back at him expectant, as though he's not sure he's got this choice of places right.

“Dean said to bring me to a pet store?” The tall one asks, amused and incredulous and apparently incapable of not smiling. The shorter one shuffles with doubt and glances down at the floor in a way that Gillian finds all kinds of adorable. His hair is sticking up at all angles and he keeps pulling awkwardly at the jacket that he's wearing, so much that it's hard not to notice him doing it. He looks good, but so uncomfortable in those perfect fitting blue jeans, that black shirt peeking out from under that beautiful sweater that fits and hugs the man in all the best ways. Gillian feels spoilt for choice for things to look at and finds her eyes darting greedily between them both for several seconds until the dark haired one starts speaking again.

“Dean said that they have puppies here,”

The tall one stands impossibly taller and his eyes shoot comically wide. “They have puppies?” Gillian watches as the shorter one nods solemnly, then the tall one's eyes dart about at the signs overhead.

“Down to the back. Take a right at the very end,” Gillian calls out then tenses up, because she's just outed herself as having been watching them. But that doesn't seem to have been noticed by them; the tall one grins in her direction and calls out his thanks, then pats the other on the arm in impatience and tilts his chin for them to go.

Gillian labels her final can and takes the machine back to the checkout, looks around for something else to do. It's a big store but there's plenty of staff so most of the work is done for the morning, leaving her with time on her hands and attractive customers to gawp at. If she can just find an excuse to get nearer to them.

A brainwave hits. Yesterday they had a delivery of new leashes and collars that she was considering leaving for someone else to put out this afternoon once she's finished her shift. With lightning speed that she's normally not capable of, Gillian rushes to grab up the boxes and the tags to go up on the stands with the prices on that she thankfully already prepared, and makes her hasty way down to where she's just sent those two guys.

Because life is kind, it lucks out that about two feet from the display Gillian is heading for is where those two are currently standing. The short one, who is not actually short at all, only in comparison, is looking about him at all of the puppies in their (generously sized) cages with a look that is part joy and part uncertainty. But the tall one is crouched down practically wiggling in time with the golden retriever puppies woofing and frolicking their little stumpy tails for his attention.

“If it wasn't so unfair to these little guys I'd take 'em all back to the bunker and let 'em take over the place,” the tall one is saying. The shorter one's eyes fall to his back and the smile there is nothing short of affectionate as though that is precisely what he expected to hear him saying.

“I imagine Dean would complain about any damage they caused to his kitchen. And I do not want to think about his reaction were they to do anything to the car,” he says, just as solemn as everything else he's been saying, but there's a look of fondness in his eyes as he says it that makes the other one turn and smile.

Dean, Gillian thinks, sounds like a misery.

“Well, you know, Cas,” the tall one says, and finally, Gillian thinks, there is at least one name, then belatedly catches the teasing in his voice. “I'd just... I'd just tell him I bought them all for you. Guaranteed way to let me get away with just about anything these days, huh?”

Cas gets a haughty look about him but it only holds for seconds, because clearly whatever the tall one's saying to him is ringing true, and he's smiling all over again.

Huh.

“Sam,” he says, and wow his voice, Gillian thinks, sucking in a breath when she really notices it, “I am certain that were it for you, Dean would also be just as forgiving,”

Sam snorts, shakes his head as though he's unconvinced, then turns his focus back to the puppies again. “Hey. You got ways of making things up to Dean that I'm having nothing to do with,”

Cas is amused by this and nods in agreement, despite Sam's back being turned. Gillian finds herself echoing his smile.

“Anyway,” Sam adds, his face melting as the puppy clambers up against the cage front and sticks his little pink tongue out over Sam's finger. “If Dean told you bringing me here would get you in my good books... what'd you do to make you think you were in the bad ones?”

Gillian feels all kinds of confused by what is happening here and wants to ask for a summary of events. If Cas feels he needs to apologize to Sam in some way, clearly from Sam's questioning he is clueless as to why. And who is the mysterious Dean that apparently has no tolerance for most things, but might just show some kind of leeway for them both?

For a few seconds Cas stares back at Sam as though he is going through some kind of internal checklist. When he nods to himself he does it with balled fists by his sides, and a set of his shoulders before he starts. “Dean told me that you were... uncomfortable when I attempted to discuss with you some details of our... intimacy,” he settles on. Making Gillian's brain short circuit into nothing but _huh_?

Sam lets out a half-tortured laugh and covers his eyes, though why he's doing that when it's obviously something he's hearing rather than currently seeing that has disturbed him Gillian can't figure out. “Uh. Yeah, Cas,” he says, his voice straining,

“That—that kinda thing is... it's not something you normally share with.... with other people. Other than the person you're uh... sharing that with,”

“I understand,” Cas replies, precise and with a stiff nod. “I forget that people here are not comfortable with discussions of a sexual nature. Unless of course it is derogatory or belittling or 'banter'," and Cas says that last word like it is an exotic, foreign thing, which of course has Gillian hazarding guess after guess about where Cas might originate from.

“Not—not always," Sam stammers out, but the way his eyes look startled they were not the words he intended saying. At least, not the words he should have said, if he wanted to move the conversation swiftly along.

“No,” Cas agrees, and it sounds a little spiteful, “People are happy to discuss what they would like to do to other people that clearly have no interest in them, and attend houses of iniquity where—”

“Anyway,” Sam says in a hurry, trying to reel in his mistake. “What were you saying?”

“Dean no longer attends such places,” Cas adds to Sam's backfired attempt at changing the subject, and there's a smug, pleased look about him as he says it that brings understanding to Gillian and a thud of excitement to her heart.

“No,” Sam agrees, covering his eyes again and ducking away, “No, I guess he doesn't. You, uh... since you... uh... I guess you two keep each other, uh... entertained enough,”

Cas stiffens again, and Gillian swears there is a touch of blush to his cheeks. “Sam. We have already apologized for having—”

“It's fine,” Sam says, whipping his head back to look at Cas and cut him off. His hand is out as though he's tempted to cover Cas' mouth with it but he stops just in time. Though Sam does swallow thickly as though he's remembering something uncomfortable and is trying hard not to. Cas stares back at him for another moment and Gillian finds that she's holding her breath.

“Dean and I,” Cas continues when it appears he's found his words, “There are some things that we would like to try,”

Sam, Gillian thinks to herself, must be getting on easily for seven foot, so there's no possible way for him to crumple down comfortably like he is to about four on hearing Cas' words. Guy must do yoga to be that flexible, she muses, then considers what he might look like in yoga attire all sinewy and gleaming and has to clutch the wall beside her to gather her thoughts.

“Cas,” Sam attempts, sounding so crushed and horrified that it sounds like his world has shattered before him. “I... as much as I am happy that you and my brother are—”

“You did not want to know,” Cas cuts him off, and somehow manages to sound offended. “Although I presumed that you would be pleased to know that Dean gets much pleasure from—”

“Cas,” Sam pleads, so desperate that Gillian's going to keep herself awake tonight going over all of the possibilities of whatever it is that Cas has been telling him about his and Dean's apparently interesting sex life. She could really do with a picture of this Dean so she can truly imagine what he and Cas have been getting up to, but then Cas is more than attractive enough to imagine him doing anything to anyone, so she will work with what she's got.

“I was merely suggesting,” Cas starts up again, unperturbed, “that because there are things that we wish to try that will no doubt be somewhat vocal for how pleasurable they will feel—”

There is a whimper that falls from Sam's lips that doesn't actually form a word, but still manages to beg with Cas to just stop.

“That Dean and I go away for a weekend together in order to try them, leaving you alone at the bunker for the duration,” Cas concludes. Gillian hears _bunker_ then sees Sam's face whip around so fast he must have given himself whiplash, and wonders to herself what the hell is going on. She's clutching a stray squeaky toy in her hand that has found its way to where she's stocking up the new products and the look on Sam's face has her seconds away from announcing that she's watching them by squeezing it hard.

“You,” Sam tries, licking his lips and attempting to swallow. “You wanna go away for the weekend. With Dean. To—” and he does this little bobbing of his head movement coupled with a dismissive raise of his arm up and down that to Gillian looks far funnier than he probably intended. She has to hide the snort of laughter blasting out of her by turning firmly away to give the pretence of straightening up the shelves.

“Yes,” Cas confirms, back to sounding earnest; Gillian is desperate to turn round to look at them once again but doesn't feel she can risk it.

“What... why would... why would you need to... to get in my good books for that?” Sam manages to say after a few attempts. Gillian grins to herself, deciding Cas has clearly got to be from somewhere that's a very different way of life.

“You would be alone for the weekend,” Cas tells him, and now is, bewilderingly, sounding guilty, and even though she can't see it, Gillian knows that Sam is looking thoroughly amused.

“That's... that's okay, Cas,” Sam's telling him, tight and tinged with the difficulty he's having not laughing.

“It is Dean's birthday,” Cas adds, sounding even more sorry, and Gillian is adamant she hears Sam's shoulders untensing as he straightens up. It doesn't matter, Gillian thinks, turning back around without any reason to, she's got to see this.

“So we can... we'll get a birthday pie or something, have it when you get back,” Sam says, easy as anything and sounding so relieved it's like he's been let off something terrible like death row, or cleaning out the chinchillas. Gillian detests cleaning out the chinchillas no matter how much she loves the chinchillas themselves, in fact she's taken a few of them home when they've been sick from time to time, nursing them back to health and then—

“Are you sure?” Cas is asking, looking so very desperate for Sam's confirmation that he is, he's almost leaning up on tiptoe to get it. An amused ripple appears to shimmer all the way through Sam's body then, settling on a tiny smile curling up his mouth.

“Sure, Cas. I'm sure. I've, uh... celebrated enough of Dean's birthdays with him on the day. You... you get a turn now,” which puts all sorts of improper images in Gillian's mind that she abruptly curses herself for having, folds the box flat vigorously and forces herself to begin walking away.

“You are sure,” Cas repeats, cautious and off to Gillian's right as she walks past him.

“Yeah,” Sam tells him, and Gillian thinks she hears him leaning out to grip Cas' arm.

“I'm sure.”

Gillian walks back to the cash desk adamant that she's going to put the entire thing from her mind and finish her shift without any further distractions. She's tidying papers away and untangling the length of paperclips one of the evening staff made a chain of in a lull between customers at some point, so engrossed in what she's doing that it takes a couple of seconds to register the now-familiar voices approaching.

“Cas,” she hears, and Sam sounds very amused with himself. Chancing a look up Gillian sees Cas looking at him curiously and nodding. Sam's grin splits wide, and his hand comes up to clamp around Cas' shoulder as he looks up at the signs again. When he can't see what he's looking for he turns, looks right at Gillian and stage whispers, “Guinea pigs?”

Cas' eyes blow wide, looking up at Sam in astonishment. “They have guinea pigs?” he asks, small and overawed. Gillian has no idea what to make of this so simply points in the right direction and mutters about there being a couple there that they can handle if they ask the assistant working down on that section.

The look on Cas' face then is several thousand Christmases at once. Sam laughs, harsh and delighted, grips Cas' shoulder a little tighter then nudges him to get them moving. “C'mon. Let's go take a look,”

Gillian watches as they walk away, catching stray words of their conversation that don't make any sense to her, then gets back to work.

 


End file.
